Cloaks, Colds, and Company
by fictionalheart
Summary: When Gwen truly does sicken with fever, Arthur pulls out his blue cloak and surprises her. Sick fic. Fluff. Set somewhere between 3x07 and 3x08.


Rearranging her bedclothes for the umpteenth time that evening, Gwen turns over and hopes the loss of pressure on her back will finally allow her to fall asleep. Her chest aches from a cold that's plagued her for days but that she hadn't had the time to treat with the care that it demanded before tonight, and she groans as her movements cause the discomfort to grow.

Gaius had caught her coughing as she'd carried a bundle of washing past the apothecary earlier that evening and had packed her off with a remedy and an order to rest, promising to present her excuses to Morgana and have Merlin cover her duties for the night. She'd resisted, not wanting to put her friends in difficulty, but the physician had been stern in his orders and the desire for sleep too strong.

She was grateful for his intervention, but the second she'd crawled into bed with a cup of Gaius' medicinal tea, the aches she'd been repressing had begun to spread through every inch of her body, and she found herself feverish and unable to relax, let alone sleep.

Her groan turns into a cough as she shifts again, and she almost misses the light knock at her door. She frowns at the interruption, not expecting anyone to check on her and noting that it's well after dark, and sits up to wrap her shawl around her shoulders before slipping out of bed.

Moonlight makes its way in through the cracks she needs to have repaired by the doorframe, and she thinks of the iron poker leaning against the wall. She knows she ought to reach for it and defend herself better than she had weeks ago now, but the figure at the door knocks again, slightly more pronouncedly than before, and tentatively whispers her name. She recognizes the voice, and she doesn't know if the slight increase in her pulse is from illness or the implications behind the drawn out vowels of her name.

Assuring that the shawl has her as covered as possible and wishing that her nightgown was made of slightly thicker material, she unlatches the door and finds her suspicions confirmed. Arthur stands in the doorway, shrouded in his blue blue cape, eyes wide and filled with concern.

He whispers her name again, and she beckons for him to enter, hanging onto the door as he does and making sure that none of her neighbours are out lurking in the night.

She turns back to Arthur as she shuts the door, and he gives her a wavering smile. "I'm sorry to intrude, but Morgana mentioned that you were unwell. I wanted to see if you needed anything."

She smiles softly and wonders how she'd ever thought Arthur to be cold and uncaring. "You didn't want to send Merlin?"

Faint pink spreads across his cheeks, disappearing as quickly as it surfaces, and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "I wanted to see for myself. And besides, I think I can be of more use than Merlin."

"More use than the physician's assistant?"

The blush returns to his cheeks, and Gwen begins to smile before another coughing fit strikes and causes her to turn away. Arthur is frowning when she straightens and steps closer to her. "I'm sorry I caused you to get out of bed."

"It's fine. I couldn't sleep anyway."

He frowns and reaches for her, and she readily goes into his arms, still amazed at how quickly they'd let all barriers between them fall away after the ordeal with Cenred and at how natural it felt to be so close to him. She leans her head against his chest and closes her eyes, sighing softly. The tension begins to leave her aching muscles at the contact, and she decides she doesn't want to move.

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and she feels him begin to frown. "You're burning up, Gwen. You should really be in bed."

She slips her arms beneath his cloaks and wraps them around his waist, revelling in the extra warmth. "This is so much more comfortable." She knows she's being forward and slightly childish, but she feels more relaxed than she has in days, and the fever causes her to be more uninhibited than she would otherwise allow.

He chuckles and lets go of her to slip his cloak off his shoulders and drapes it around her, instead. "Come on," he murmurs and guides her across the room.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take care of you."

She frowns, feeling a rush of cold run through her veins. "How?"

"First I'm getting you back in bed, and then I'm making you tea."

She wants to object, to ask if he even knows how to make tea without burning down her kitchen, but her teeth begin to chatter, and she allows him to prop her pillow up against the wall and guide her onto the bed. She pulls her legs up onto the bed as he draws the blankets over her and burrows deeper into his cloak. She looks up to thank him but finds him frowning as he tucks in the edge of the covers and considers the stone floors. "What is it?"

"Why aren't you wearing socks? Your feet must be frozen."

"Not allowed."

His frown deepens. "What do you mean they aren't allowed?"

"There are laws, Arthur." Another rush of cold runs through her and she leans her head against the wall. "They're a symbol of status. Only nobles are allowed to own socks."

"That's ridiculous."

She smiles through the chattering. "It is. You can change that when you're king, too."

She closes her eyes, and the next time she opens them, it's to the mattress dipping beside her as Arthur fidgets, trying to settle in and sit beside her. She shifts and tugs on the covers. Arthur begins to object, but she pulls them over him and snuggles into his side. There are still several layers between them, and she won't have him teetering on the edge of her bed when they could both be far more comfortable.

He wraps an arm around her and pulls her closer before reaching his other arm off the bed to towards something on the ground. "I made you tea."

"When did you learn how to make tea?"

He smiles and offers her the cup. "I'm full of surprises."

"That you are. Thank you." She takes a sip, and the warm liquid soothes her throat as it runs down it. It's slightly sweeter than she's used to, and she considers its balm-like effect.

"I added honey to it. I always find that it helps me when I'm feverish."

She smiles and takes another sip. "I've never had honey before. It's very good."

Arthur frowns. "I'm sorry. There isn't another law about that, is there?"

"No, but it isn't something we often have at the market in the upper town."

He nods. "I'll see if I can change that, too."

"You don't think your father would be suspicious if you show a sudden interest in the food supplies of the lower classes?"

"It's my duty as crown prince to care about my subjects' well-being." He shrugs and she settles back against his chest. "And Guinevere, it is most certainly my duty to care about yours."

"You're good to me, Arthur."

"Not as good as I should be."

"Well I'm afraid I'm not being very good to you." She feels him tense beside her and elaborates, "I shouldn't allow you to be this close to me when I'm feverish. You could catch whatever I have."

"Nonsense." He places a kiss and tightens his grip on her. "Merlin and Gaius can take care of me if I catch it. I'm not leaving you alone."

She smiles against his chest. She knows she should send him on his way, for the sake of the kingdom if not for all the suffering he'll inflict upon Merlin if he gets sick, but she feels better with him there, and allows herself to relax in his embrace. He lightly runs his hands over her back as he tells her about his day and her eyes begin to droop as and she finally drifts off to sleep, aches, shivers, and uncomfortable beds momentarily forgotten.

Arthur is gone when she wakes the next morning, but a bouquet of wildflowers sits atop her table next to Gaius' prescribed remedy and a bundle of fine, woolen stockings.


End file.
